Here
by Shinigami's Death Angel
Summary: Father's Day fic on my favorite father/son pairing. Bruce is looking for Dick and finds him doing something quite unexpected.


**Here**

It was a humid, rainy kind of Sunday in Gotham, the kind of Sunday that made everyone want to stay indoors and laze about.

Standing leisurely against the kitchen counter with a mug of steaming coffee in hand, Bruce Wayne was enjoying the peace and quiet that Wayne Manor had to offer in the midst of a late spring storm. Every now and then the distant sounds of Alfred cleaning could be heard as the butler steadily moved through the manor, happily humming some old tune under his breath.

Call him whatever you'd like, but Bruce saw his need to know where everyone was at all times as simply being protective. One could never know when some freak incident would occur. That being said, why wasn't there a hyperactive ten year old running around making noise?

Feeling his brows draw together, Bruce paused mid-sip as he contemplated that question. Where _was_ that adopted kid of his? Normally, Dick would have been bounding around the manor looking for entertainment on a day like this where he had no school but couldn't be outside. However, other than Alfred's cleaning not a sound could be heard in the large Wayne residence.

Knowing that Dick was somewhere in the manor doing something but not knowing where or what, Bruce set his mostly empty mug down and straightened up. An audible pop followed by a crack resounded momentarily in the spacious kitchen when Bruce raised his arms up and gave his body a good stretch, taking the man by surprise. He was only in his mid-thirties but it seemed as if his nightly activities coupled with the damp weather was doing something to his body.

Man that made him feel old. Bruce's father had just started to complain of joint pains before he had been murdered, but he had been quite a few years older than Bruce was now. Then again, Thomas Wayne most certainly did not change into someone else every night and then go off chasing down bad guys.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Bruce pushed aside the fact that he was getting old and went off to find his kid.

Well, Dick wasn't watching television in the multimedia room. Nor was he battling Wally over the computer in the study. He wasn't swinging from the banisters in the entrance hall. The Batcave was dark and empty. Dick's room was empty and currently being tidied up by Alfred, who turned and raised a questioning brow when Bruce peeked his head in before letting out a sigh and retreating again. Where was that boy?

After fifteen minutes of searching and only covering about a third of the entire manor, Bruce was starting to get frustrated. Usually it was not at all this hard to find the third resident of the manor. If Dick wasn't in his room relaxing, doing homework in the study, yelling at his friend Wally over their comm. link, or training in the Batcave, then…then…

Letting out a thoroughly disgusted huff, Bruce stopped to cross his arms and think things through again. Dick wasn't in any of his usual haunts but he also wasn't out of the house, because Bruce would definitely know if Dick had left. Alfred hadn't seen the boy. Well, Bruce had neglected to ask since by the point he'd caught up with the butler's cleaning route he'd been too riled up from searching more of the manor than he cared to. But if Alfred had known where Dick was Bruce was pretty sure he would have said something, Bruce _had_ been looking in Dick's bedroom after all.

What time was it anyways? Because really, Bruce should be timing himself. If the Dark Knight was taking this much time to find a ten year old then he was getting older than he thought. Then again, finding out the time would be easier if Bruce had remembered to put on his watch when he got dressed that morning.

"I blame the weather." Bruce mumbled to himself as he ascended the staircase to the second floor, bare feet warmed by the carpeting as he made his way towards his room.

Pushing open the door of his master suite, Bruce glanced up before stopping dead in his tracks. Of all the places Bruce had expected Dick to be, laying comfortably on his bedroom floor before the large glass balcony doors with a sizable canvas in front of him was probably one of the last. Wearing a T-shirt that was a couple of sizes too big for him and tan cargo shorts, Dick was on his belly with legs in the air and paintbrush in hand, small tubs of paint sitting on an old sheet beside him and his canvas.

"Dick?" Bruce asked, clearing his throat to get rid of some of his surprise.

"Hey Bruce." Dick greeted without looking up from his painting.

"What're you doing?" Bruce was actually curious as he entered the room, closing his door behind him.

"Painting." Dick replied, secretly smirking at the eye roll he was sure Bruce was doing behind his back. "Alfred gave me a couple of canvases, you want to join me?" Dick lifted his brush and turned to look up at Bruce with a hopeful smile. Smiling back at the boy, Bruce knew that it'd take the city burning down around him to make him say no.

The rain continued to drum against the balcony doors and the flagstones outside, but inside Dick was nice and warm on the floor beside Bruce. The sound of both their brushes gliding over canvas mingled with Dick's occasional laughter as he and Bruce talked about everything from nonsensical to serious.

The hardwood of the bedroom floor was not the most comfortable of places to be painting, but being able to spend time with Dick like this made the stiffness in Bruce's limbs worth it. An hour of painting later and Dick had finished his masterpiece. Crawling forward on hands and knees, Dick took his canvas and propped it up against the balcony doors before shuffling back to snuggle into Bruce's side.

"You done?" Bruce asked, eyes still intent on his own canvas.

"Mmhm." Dick elbowed Bruce's side to get him to look up. The sight that met Bruce's eyes when he did seemed to clog his throat and wet his eyes with inexpressible emotion.

Leaned up against the door was Dick's painting of a young robin perched on a tree branch being cuddled into the fuzzy warm fur of the bat hanging from the branch above it, a full moon behind the two creatures. If Bruce were any other man, he would have admitted to tearing up at the painting, but since he wasn't he simply had a speck of dust in his eye. Must remind Alfred to dust better.

"What got you into painting in the first place?" Bruce decided to ask, rather than delve into the obvious emotions behind the painting. Dick just shrugged his small shoulders, rubbing against Bruce's own as the boy was still tucked up against his side.

"I don't know. I guess, after losing my parents and being Robin, I've realized how lucky I am to be here. I guess sometimes I just feel the need to leave something behind to let everyone else know that I'm here." Dick confessed, leaning his head on Bruce's shoulder as he looked down at the older man's still unfinished canvas.

"And I'm grateful every day that you are." Bruce, in a moment of softness, leaned down to drop a kiss on Dick's temple.

"Right back at you Bruce." Dick grinned, sneaking his way under Bruce's arm before looking back up at his painting. "Happy Father's Day."

_It's a beautiful world_

_And we're all here_


End file.
